Sir John, the father, rode forward and addressed them.
"To the death without mercy to the fallen," he said grimly.
They bent their heads in answer.
"Now!" he cried, and reined back his horse.
"The first home thrust wins," whispered Acour to him, as he wiped the
blood of the swan off his sleeve. "Thank God, your son's sword is the
longer!"
Perhaps the pair heard this whisper, or, perhaps, being without mail,
they knew that it was so. At least for a while they circled round and
round each other, but out of reach.
Then at length John Clavering rushed in and thrust. Hugh sprang back
before his point. Again he rushed and thrust and again Hugh sprang
back. A third time and Hugh fairly ran, whereon a shout went up from the
Claverings.
"The chapman's afraid!" cried one. "Give him a yard measure," shouted
another; "he cannot handle steel!"
Eve turned her face, and her very eyes were sick with doubt.
"Is it true?" she gasped.
"Ay," answered Dick the Archer, "it's true that he draws him to the
river bank! Those who wait will learn why. Oh, the swan! He sees not the
swan!"
As he spoke, Hugh, in his retreat before another of John Clavering's
rushes, struck his foot against the great dead bird, and staggered. John
leapt upon him, and he went down.
"Is he pierced?" muttered Eve.
"Nay, missed," answered Dick, "by half an inch. Ah, I thought so!"
As the words left his lips Clavering fell sprawling on his back, for
Hugh had caught his leg with his left arm and thrown him, so that they
lay both together on the ground.
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